Some Quick Math

161 is 79.7% of 202.

I just wanted to clear that up, since there's been some controversy. You'd think such a statement wouldn't really be open for debate, but here we are.

Allow me to explain. $161 million is roughly the 2011 payroll of the Boston Red Sox. $202 million is roughly the 2011 payroll of the New York Yankees. And I have had quite enough of people telling me that the Red Sox spend "just as much" on their talent as the Yankees do.

Let's clear up a couple of other things, while we're at it. Spending money is good. If you have it, you should spend it. I don't fault the Yankees for spending $202 million, and I applaud them (and their massive market) for having $202 million to spend. If the Red Sox were to spend $203 million, that would not be evil or wrong, as long as they spent it effectively.

But there is a stigma associated with being the league's high-spender, and there is a tendency to lump the Red Sox and Yankees in the same category. The Red Sox and Yankees, and everyone else. (Funny, that isn't how the list reads some years, but that doesn't stop people from deciding the Sox and Yanks are the two fat-cats.) And it simply doesn't work that way.

Spending $161 million and spending $202 million is not the same thing. It's not even close. It is 20% different. It is $41 million different. It is the difference between a B- and an A+. It is the difference between a genius IQ of 155 and a middling 123. Imagine if the Yankees decided to send Mark Teixeira over to the Red Sox, for absolutely nothing in return, just because. That would just about even things out.

Let's clarify one last time, because it is easy for people to misrepresent the facts in this debate:

-Teams should spend all the money they have, guilt-free

-The Red Sox and Yankees both spend a lot of money on their teams
-However, the Yankees both possess and spend way more money than any other team, including the Red Sox, by a ridiculous margin
-Rooting for the Yankees is still evil

I do hope that clears things up. If anyone disagrees, I will happily accept 20% of your salary from now on. Don't worry, you'll still be making about the same amount of money.

Replay Watch: Day 4,912

It sure would be nice if we could implement some replay.

Too Much Of A Good Thing

You know me. I'm all for accepting change into our beloved sports traditions. Technology can help us. We don't need to accept things the way they have always been when we have an opportunity to improve them. That whole deal.

And then, of course, we have this. Change gone amok. New technology interfering with the greatest tradition in all of sports. FIFA is doing its best to undermine my point--but just watch while I twist this into supporting my point of view.

What FIFA is helping us see is simply the fact that we have to be reasonable. I've argued that the idea that we can't change our sports is unfounded, but the other extreme is just as insane: the idea of changing our sports for nothing other than the sake of changing them. Case in point: what on Earth was wrong with whatever soccer balls we used last time? Why can't we just pick a ball and stick with it, instead of changing it for absolutely no reason? This is, in fact, the same frustration I've shown before--just as we shouldn't change our sports equipment for no reason, we also shouldn't change our team logos and colors just because we feel like it.

When we promote change for nothing more than the sake of change, we're suggesting that change is inherently good. When we argue that we can't add replay to baseball because human error has always been a part of the game, we're suggesting that change is inherently bad. And I can't understand either point of view. Whether or not change is good depends entirely on what we want to change and why. If we have a good reason for updating our beloved sports, then we're damaging them by not following up on that opportunity. If we have no good reason at all, then we're throwing our dearly held sports traditions away just because we're bored. Thankfully, things are ultimately very simple: if we can just act for the right reasons, then everything won't just be okay, it will be better.

Play It Again

In a recent piece from Slate, Josh Levin, presenting an argument for the eradication of umpires, asks the following question:

"If it's objective truth we're after, why should the one guy who isn't watching in slo-mo have any say at all, much less the last word?"

I'm not prepared to argue for the end of the umpire in Major League Baseball, although that sentence makes so much sense it makes me want to cry. However, I am prepared to argue for what Levin is really advocating (even he recognizes we can never fully eliminate the umpire): the use of video and video replay as an officiating aid in pretty much every situation possible.

I've argued this before, including in my most recent, exasperated post. My work clearly isn't done, as long as people are still writing things like this, but I'd at least like to make an effort to avoid repeating myself. Thus, instead of arguing FOR the use of replay, I'm going to discuss/eviscerate a couple of common counterarguments.

HOLISTIC FALLACY: This one can be classified as some variant of the phrase, "The human error inherent in umpiring is part of the game." As an example, read the second paragraph in that link above. It makes me nauseous, because it's dependent on the idea that baseball is one whole and all of its elements are inseparable, and that's just not true; it is one hundred percent within our power to change one part of the game while leaving the rest alone. Don't like the fact that we can only play baseball during the day? Boom, we just installed lights. The rest of the game remains the same. Don't like the fact that bad calls are being made all over the place? Here, here's a video replay monitor. We'll use it to get things right, and at all other times--I promise--you'll forget it's there.

So, the question really becomes, both for that particular NYT columnist as well as those who agree with him: do you like it when an epicly huge call is blown? Is that a specific part of baseball you want to keep? Note that my question is not: do you like baseball, a part of which is the fact that epicly huge calls are sometimes blown. My question is: do you like when the calls are blown? Because we can keep all that good, old-timey, peanuts-and-cracker-jack baseball essence and just get rid of the bad calls, or at least a good amount of them. This is entirely possible and has been for quite some time. And if we really do want to hang on to everything that's been a part of the game, then a lot of ballplayers aren't going to be thrilled to hear that they've been resegregated back to the Negro Leagues. You can tell them. I don't wanna.

DEFEATISM: This one goes something like this: we can never eliminate human error entirely, since there will always be borderline balk calls, tag plays at the bases/home plate, etc., so why even try? There's no other way to describe this than the way I've labeled it: defeatism. We'll never be perfect, so there's no sense in striving to be better than we are. Hear that, Joe Mauer? You'll never get on base 100% of the time, so you might as well blow off the batting cages. There's no point in doing the best we can--even though we can do a hell of a lot better than we already are--because there will always be flaws. Human production and improvement grinds to a halt under this system of thinking, so I'd rather avoid it as the basis for how we should run baseball.

THE ADDITION-WITHOUT-SUBTRACTION FALLACY: The games are already too darn long! This one ends up being a variation of defeatism; replay would make games take longer (debatable, but fine, I'll grant it for the purposes of the conversation), so, I guess we're sunk, because we'll never find a way to make it shorter again.

Let's have a little optimism, people! There are plenty of things we can do to make games shorter, if that's your concern. Personally, I'm fine with how the games are now, as well as how long they would be if you added in a little time for replay. But if you're worried, know this: in the Red Sox-A's game I watched yesterday, the announcers mentioned that because the A's reliever in the bullpen hadn't started warming up early enough, the current pitcher might just throw over to first base a bunch of times until he was ready. And your problem is that we might take a little time to get the calls right? Let's start with things like banning Jorge Posada from visiting the mound eight times in an inning, and I promise you, we'll have time for all the replays we want to watch.

SLIPPERY SLOPE: The argument I kept hearing in the hours after Jim Joyce's Portrait Of The Umpire As A Flawed Officiator (that's right, guys, this post is getting this blog's first 'Irish literature' label. I'm back with a vengeance. Deal with it.) was that it would be criminal for Bud Selig to step in to overturn the call, because: what would happen the next time there was a blown game-ending call? Things would go crazy! The system will collapse! We'll have an army of laser-equipped QuesTec 3000 robot umpires running amok by the year 2017!

A few things on this one. First, I agree that it's not ideal for Bud Selig to step in and change things (and how awesome would it be if we used in-game replay review so he never had to?). But, God, is it so awful if he changes things so they're right? If a play that millions of fans know is an out is changed to an out, that is to the detriment of humanity how, exactly? And if it happens again (even--or especially--in the World Series, as the NYT column suggests), and we still don't have a better system in place to deal with it because of stubborn anti-replay advocates, then please, Bud, step in and change it. Save us from ourselves.

Secondly: I don't like slippery slope arguments, because they entirely undersell human self-control. If Bud wants to change this one call because it was a perfect game and we all know it, but next time something comes up, he wants to say, "Screw you all, that was different, I'm not doing it again," it is entirely within his power to do that. Similarly, if we want to say that replay is for boundary calls only and we never want to expand it, then we get to decide not to expand it. It's as simple as that. And if we find that we do want Bud to correct a call the next time around, or we do want to use replay in more situations, then that means we've decided willingly to take the next step down the slope. We haven't fallen off a precipice, we've just taken the next step.

See how that works? For the most part, you only slide down a slippery slope because you want to. We're not suddenly going to find ourselves reviewing more and more plays, or introducing more and more technology into baseball, against our will. Either we won't do it, or (hopefully) we'll slide down that slope and embrace the future because we realized that the top of the hill was ridiculously behind the times. Guys, I've slid down, and it's wonderful down here. Please, please join me.

They're All All-Stars In My Book

Congratulations are in order. Scott Podsednik, Ricky Romero, and Mike Pelfrey, I'm looking at you.

That's because, as mlb.com proudly declares, the 2010 Major League Baseball All-Star Game voting is officially open. Now that we've seen about nine percent of what the players are going to do this year, it seems that we're ready to call it.

As you've no doubt realized, what I'm doing is making an argument for how ridiculous it is to vote for the All-Star Game this early in the year (or to have fans vote for it at all, but that's another post for another time). However, I could just as easily have made my point by coming at it from an opposite direction. If we're voting now, then Podsednik, Romero, and Pelfrey DO deserve to be in the running, but at this point in the year, they're not going to be. When you vote after 15 games, people are going to go with the names they know, which means the superstars will make the cut no matter how they've started the year.

Of course, that's a problem no matter what (again, I'm resisting the temptation--for now--to go after fan voting in general). However, having fans vote without any information on what kind of season players are actually having only makes things worse.

But hey, this is the way we're going, so let's run with it. With his 1.000 batting average and 2.500 slugging percentage, Darnell McDonald is a lock as your starting All-Star CF.

Chem 101

It's a funny thing about chemistry. In the real world, it's a science. In the sports world, it's about as far from being a science as you can possibly get. Its workings are intangible, its effects are unquantifiable. And yet, sportswriters--particularly baseball writers--argue time and time again that it's an essential ingredient for a successful team.


Now, make no mistake--this is incorrect. Almost every action in baseball requires zero-to-minimal chemistry, because it requires zero-to-minimal interaction with your teammates. Hitting is individual. Fielding is individual (sure, you have to toss the ball to your teammate for a putout, but...come on). Pitching involves some sense of a bond between pitcher and catcher, but much of what determines success or failure comes down to whether or not the pitcher, all on his own, throws a good pitch. If the left fielder and first baseman hate each other, things will be fine. Even if the pitcher and catcher hate each other, things will probably be fine.


And yet, even when it does come to something as simple as two players throwing the ball to each other, writers insist that there's some element of chemistry that affects the outcome. Today's example comes from Peter Abraham of Boston.com, and you can just sense the fact that he was handed an assignment he didn't believe in and didn't want to write:


"Scutaro, Pedroia, and the rest of the Red Sox enjoyed their only day off of spring training yesterday. For the two infielders, that meant a break from taking countless ground balls and refining their on-field partnership.

Tentative at first, they now exchange the ball like two basketball players on a fast break. Pedroia spins, Scutaro dips, each knowing what the other will do before it happens."


It must be Pedroia's strong baseball instincts that allows him to know, BEFORE IT EVEN HAPPENS, that Marco Scutaro will catch the ball when he throws it.


To be fair, double plays do involve positioning, footwork, etc., and I have no doubt that Scutaro and Pedroia can anticipate their partner's moves before he makes them. But isn't that because every team in professional and amateur baseball runs that play basically the same way? This isn't football; there's no tea playbook that Marco Scutaro needs to learn when switching teams, at least not when it comes to turning the DP. As excited as Peter Abraham (or Peter Abraham's editors) seem to be about the budding chemistry between Scutaro and Pedroia, if Scutaro simply closes his eyes and pretends that Pedroia is Aaron Hill, he'll do fine. 

"From afar, the choreography of a double play seems impossibly intricate as the ball arrives at the bag at the precise second needed to complete the turn. But both Pedroia and Scutaro say it’s not as complicated as fans would think or as time-consuming to master.

'You get that question a lot: What is the chemistry going to be like?’' said Pedroia. 'Everybody wants to know that. But when you get two good players, it comes fast.'"


I think it's fair to summarize this quote as, "We get this question a lot, but it's really no big deal." When the people you're quoting are basically telling you not to write your article, I think it's time to find a new topic.


EDIT: It's a good thing that Tinker, Evers and Chance, the most famous double-play combination of all time, had such great chemistry.

If A Stadium Collapses And There's No One Around To Be Angry...

I just wanted to chime in that this:

http://deadspin.com/5490960/last-nights-winner-people-who-enjoy-watching-yankee-stadium-blow-up

Seemed like a good occasion to reiterate this:

http://pooponboozer.blogspot.com/2008/09/revisionist-history.html

However, read it while you can--in the spirit of the Yankees, I will soon be destroying all of the older posts in this blog's illustrious history. They just don't make me as much money as I'd like.

If I Were An Angels, Red Sox, Twins, or Tigers Fan Right Now I'd Be So Pissed

I was going to write about all of the horrible calls we've seen in the past week, and about how Major League Baseball needs a real instant replay system and probably computerized home-plate umpiring as well, but hey--it looks like Jeff Passan has done it already. Makes my job easier. I'll just throw in a few notes as well:

-Passan doesn't even mention the bizarre catcher's interference call that went against the Angels in Game 1 of the ALDS. That one, in its own way, is the most perplexing. I can understand misjudging something like a play at first base or a foul ball, but on a completely clean swing that is no different from the thousands of other completely clean swings an umpire sees over the course of a season, what would cause him, apropos of nothing, as it turns out, to declare one such play catcher's interference?

-Passan quotes Joe Nathan: “I wasn’t the only one who blew one tonight."I'm of the opinion that people who live in glass houses that were just shattered by epic, save-blowing, game-tying home runs by Alex Rodriguez shouldn't really throw meatball-style, grooved-right-down-the-middle-of-the-plate stones. You're a postseason goat, Joe Nathan, and you should stop throwing other people under the bus.

-Passan also quotes Nick Punto on whether we need to use technology to help us out: “That’s a sticky situation. I really like the human element part of the game. Where does it end? Maybe one day there’s robots back there umpiring, and that’s no fun.”

Not many people know this, but Nick Punto actually hates playing baseball--he just loves loves LOVES the umpiring. It's so much FUN for him. When he's at the plate, and takes a called strike at the knees that was probably a little bit low, he calls time just so he can turn around and shake the umpire's hand, thanking him for making this great game so much fun. If that questionable call happens to cost his team a game, he takes the umpire out for a beer afterward.

Seriously, though, this is an argument I never got--the argument that umpires are a traditional part of the game, so we should keep them. That's true, they are part of the game--but does anybody really LIKE that they're part of the game? 99.99% of the times that we actually notice umpires, it's because we think they made a bad call. Why is that a tradition we want to preserve? It's confusing.

Why Yes, I Am Bitter About Last Night

http://www.boston.com/sports/baseball/redsox/articles/2009/08/22/problem_with_penny_is_hammered_home/

How on earth do you become one of like three columnists for one of the premier sports sections in the entire country if you begin your article that way? "Brad Penny is terrible. Here is a series of puns involving his name."

Next time somebody complains about the death of print journalism, I'm sending them this article.

Where's Your Head?

I'm 20 minutes into an episode of "Sportscenter," and already, I've seen two baseball players get hit in the head by pitches. One of them, David Wright, was taken to the hospital for overnight observation, although both seem as though they're going to be fine.

So, we can all agree that getting hit in the head by a 96-mph fastball is dangerous, right? Then I will never understand the defense for what Johan Santana did. After his teammate was hit in the head, no doubt unintentionally, by Matt Cain, he threw behind one Giant and, when he missed that target, hit another.

"I feel like I have to protect my teammates," Santana said. "You call it whatever you want. There's no question. We do this thing together. I'm going to protect them the same way they protect me."

That's Johan Santana, admitting that he just committed what would be assault, if it had taken place anyplace other than a baseball field. After he just saw his teammate lying on the field for several chilling minutes before being taken to an ambulance, he thought the situation dictated that he do the same.

I'm unclear on how exactly this protects his teammates. The implication, I suppose, is that wanton Giants pitchers will be firing fastballs at Mets hitters all day unless Santana steps up and restores order by plunking someone. I had no idea the Giants were such a menace to society, but if they are, it's not Santana's problem, and all he's done is put more players at risk to injury.

Obviously, this happens so often that it's completely unfair to single out Santana. In a recent Red Sox game, the color commentator (I believe it was Eckersley at the time, although they rotate in Remy's absence so it may not have been) argued that, if you give up a home run and then decide to hit the next batter intentionally, "that's how it goes." So, for those keeping track at home, in addition to threatening the safety of your opponents if they accidentally hit your player, you can also do it if you're just having a bad day. It's open season, really.

As I mentioned before, I've never heard a convincing argument for why hurting your opponents is okay. If it were, I feel like they might have taught it to us in Little League at some point, but all I remember is being told to shake my opponents' hands after every game. In fact, the only argument I've ever heard ballplayers make in favor of such behavior amounts to little more than macho chauvinism--baseball is war, protect your brothers, etc. etc. I've never heard any concrete reasons why hitting your opponents would help, but I've got a couple of concrete reasons why it might hurt:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Chapman (who, coincidentally, died 89 years ago tomorrow)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tony_Conigliaro

Of course, neither of those were on intentional HBP's. But if pitchers keep going like this, someone will be seriously hurt someday. I'd love to see who still stands up and defends the behavior then.

question of the day

as posed by d.r.w.: why is tim lincecum's contract figure so low?

the associated press reported that the cy young winner signed a one-year, $650,000 contract with the giants thursday. that's not even double the league minimum.

huh, you might wonder.

it seems that lincecum is probably more concerned about what happens post-2009. as the AP further reports, he is likely to be eligible for arbitration after this season.

read: BIG BUCKS.

if lincecum can post the sort of numbers he did this year, he stands to get a contract that might come close (but surely not all the way) to rivaling that of rotation-mate barry zito. so why not take the easy contract now with a team and pitching coach that he's comfortable with and go for the bigtime in a year?

still, it seems like he could have squeezed a little more out of the giants. is the kid just that nice? or is he pumped about a rotation that now features three cy young winners (lincecum, zito, and randy johnson)?

you may not be excited about lincecum or the giants, but you should sure as hell be excited that it's spring training. baseball is BACK.

_______________________

What is the sound of silence?

Pointless philosophical drivel? Sure. But also an important question when posed in reference to the A-Rod scandal. One of the biggest sports stories of the past few months at least, and three POB writers (and one guest writer!), one of them an avowed Yankees-hater, have remained conspicuously silent on the subject. What does this mean? That we all have lives--jobs, wives, kids, what have you--and are too busy to post? Sure, it means all of that. But it also means this: the A-Rod scandal is boring.

Go ahead, say it. It's okay to admit it. It doesn't take anything away from it; a story can be important and boring at the same time.  But even for A-Rod haters, what's interesting about this story? He took an illegal substance, but at this point, it's starting to seem like everyone did, at least among the great hitters of this era. We don't get an infuriating/entertaining denial a la Bonds/Clemens, or fun, evasive squirming a la Sosa/McGwire. We get a perfunctory apology and that's it. Baseball's cheaters have wised up, and in doing so, become less fun to hate. A-Rod seems as lifeless when reacting to a steroids scandal as he does playing in front of 40,000 home fans that hate him.

The big news--that 103 other people also failed drug tests--isn't even news, since we don't know who they are. And there don't seem to be any signs of Major League Baseball changing its policies. So, to sum up: we've confirmed the sneaking suspicion that everybody's been cheating, we're still not going to do anything about it, and A-Rod is sorry, but he promises that he only took substances that one time they were testing for them, and he's not even sure what they were, and he's totally sorry. Seriously, the most interesting part of this whole story was when A-Rod was bright orange for his entire confession and used the term "loosey-goosey" for some reason. When do actual baseball games start?

best and worst sports memories

good and bad are really two sides of the same coin, and i think you will find that some of my sweetest memories are strongly related to some of my worst. that's what keeps us coming back to sports, though, right?


BEST MEMORIES:

-2002 ncaa tournament. jay williams choked, maryland rocked everyone - including kansas and indiana in the final two games - to take home its first-ever men's basketball national title. amazing. (and let's not forget the women's title in 2006.)

-2002 nlcs. after edging past the braves, the giants embarrass the cardinals in five games to clinch a spot in the world series. bonds is homer-ific, benito santiago is rocking the house, and robb nen is a closer extraordinaire. life is good.

-2005 u.s. open. gilles muller, a native of luxembourg, rocks the tennis world by upsetting andy roddick in the first round. yes, he loses in the second round, but at least it's to a half-luxembourger in robbie ginepri.

-2008 u.s. open. muller is back again, and this time he's even better, making a run all the way to the quarters before falling to eventual champion roger federer. what a beast.

-san jose sharks, any recent regular season. 2008-09 is a prime example, but the sharks have been the team to reckon with over the past few seasons. sure, they're not the red wings, but the sharks have been able to pair solid goaltending with serious offensive firepower for years now.

-dallas mavericks, most recent regular seasons. the jason-kidd-for-devin-harris-and-the-kitchen-sink-trade aside, the mavericks have been one of the better teams in the nba in the 2000s, including a run to the finals in 2006 and the best record in the league in 2006-07. no matter what your allegiances, you can't tell me you don't enjoy watching terry, nowitzki, and howard light up defenses - and, for howard, the occasional joint - night after night.


WORST MEMORIES:

-maryland, any season since 2002. gary williams has never been known for his recruiting, but especially since he got his title and waved goodbye to steve blake, juan dixon, chris wilcox, and co., he's thrown in the towel when it comes to getting good players to campus - and keeping them there. sure, maryland's likely to throw up a good upset every season, but without a big man and with serious academic issues, the terps no longer are a threat for the acc title like they were in the early part of the decade.

-2002 world series. in game 6, dusty baker hands russ ortiz the game ball in the 7th inning, and then all hell breaks loose. the rally monkey kicks ass, troy glaus gets the big hit off the injured robb nen, and those almost engraved rings are tossed out and emblazoned with halos instead. i don't eat dinner for two nights in a row.

-2003 nlds. you never want to end your season because you don't pinch-run for j.t. snow. especially when this is the last time you will make the playoffs for the rest of the decade.

-2008 tour de france. after several luxembourgers make runs at the yellow jersey, frank schleck establishes a solid lead heading into the final days of the race. but, of course, carlos sastre steals it away at the very end, denying schleck (and luxembourg) its well-deserved glory. no 'roids reported yet, but just you wait.

-san jose sharks, any recent postseason. i just can't explain it, but the sharks can't finish when it comes to the big-time. year after year, they lose to teams that have been playing worse than them. but after their four-overtime loss to dallas to exit stanley cup contention last season and todd mclellan's arrival in san jose, the sharks look like they may finally have what it takes to translate regular-season success into postseason glory. but that's what i thought last year, too.

-2006 nba finals. with a chance to go up 3-0 in the series, dirk (of all people!) misses a free throw, and the mavericks collapse. dwayne wade becomes a star, shaq gets another ring, and dallas blows its best chance to win a title.

-2007 western conference quarterfinals. you know how you ruin an amazing regular season? by losing to the eighth-seeded warriors in the first round.

Bottom of the Barrel

Every great hero could not exist without their accompanying villain. Batman had the Joker. Dudley Do-Right had Snidely Whiplash. The 1997 Chicago Bulls had the 1998 Chicago Bulls. Yes, no great good can exist without its great evil, no positivity without its accompanying negativity, and no success without failure.

A little while ago, I wrote about the top five sports memories of my life--but that was only half the story. The truth is that those moments would not have been as sweet without the bottom five, and therefore those moments, as painful as they may have been, were instrumental in propelling me to the highest heights of sports enjoymeny. At least, that's what I tell myself when I wake up in a cold sweat with the Red Sox' 1995 ALDS loss to the Indians replaying in my head. Anyway, for better or for worse, here they are, the other piece of the puzzle. As we Bostonians like to do, the list is organized by singling out the pivotal figure in each moment and inserting a swear word into their name.

THE BOTTOM FIVE SPORTS MEMORIES OF D.R.W.'S LIFE:

5. 1999 ALCS, GAME 4 (TIM F@&%ING TSCHIDA)

A little bit of a wild card choice. Sure, it was the playoffs, and it was the Yankees, but even at 13, I was a little too young to fully realize the implications of a Red Sox-Yankees playoff series. Also, the Red Sox probably would have lost the series anyway, and even if they hadn't wound up on the bad end of one of the worst calls in sports history, they probably would have lost the game anyway. All in all, relatively inconsequential, for what I'm declaring to be a bottom-five moment. But, I mean, holy hell, does he look out to you?

4. 2007 AFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAME (MARLIN F@&%ING JACKSON)

If a theme is going to develop over the course of this list (and if I can help it, it never will), it's how some of the worst sports moments in my life came as the Patriots were repeatedly denied as they attempted to make the leap from the great team of their decade to one of the truly transcendent teams in football history. This was one of those times. The Pats were on the way to their fourth Super Bowl of the decade, and it was going to be oh so sweet. They were going to beat their hated rival to do it, and everything was lining up perfectly for Tom Brady to direct one of his patented humiliating, backbreaking, heroic game-winning drives. Then he was intercepted by Marlin Jackson. Who? Exactly.

Oh yeah, and Manning and the Colts went on to win their first Super Bowl. Peyton was MVP. I need to take a five-minute break.

...

3. 2006 NFL PLAYOFFS: PATRIOTS-BRONCOS (CHAMP F@&%KING BAILEY)

I'm back, but it's not going to get any easier. This game was actually very similar to the last one--big playoff loss, huge interception, doomed season, aborted dynasty. So what makes it worse than the Colts game, if that one involved a rivalry and this one didn't? It's pretty simple--this one came first, and this one derailed a run at three Super Bowls in a row. If any game did the most to prevent the Patriots from taking their place among the greatest NFL teams of all time, it was this one. I'm not going to complain too much, since I've been more than content following a three-Super-Bowls-in-a-decade team. But unlike, say, the 1999 ALCS, I fully understood the significance of this loss as I watched it unfold, and that was tough.

2. SUPER BOWL XLII (ELI F@&%KING MANNING/DAVID F@&%KING TYREE)

I'll never experience a defeat quite like this one, because I've never felt more of a need for my team to win. There was the mounting burden of 19-0, combined with the fact that, for a variety of reasons, the 44 other states were all rooting for New England to go down in flames. As every game passed, the pressure on the Patriots to lose intensified, but they were just one game away from emerging safely from all of it, and forcing the Patriots-hating world to respect them, if not like them.

But when Eli Manning wriggled free from about nine pass rushers, when David Tyree made the most improbable catch I've ever seen, when Asante Samuel mistimed his leap for a potential game-ending pick--it gave the world the opportunity to label the Pats chokers as well as cheaters. In one game, what should have been the greatest achievement in NFL history became the catalyst for an offseason of mockery. As a sports fan, you're prepared to see your team lose big games every now and then, but I've never seen so high and mighty a team brought down so low in the course of one game, and I never will again.

1. 2003 ALCS, GAME 7 (AARON F@&%KING BOONE)

I spent the better part of an hour trying to write this paragraph, and I couldn't do it. Really. Five years later, and I still couldn't. That's how bad it was.

Texeir-ing The Wealth

You may have detected, if you truly read between the lines of some of my posts on this blog, some faint undertones of animosity towards the New York Yankees. You may remember that as the Empire wrapped up its offseason spending spree, I was there every step of the way, compromising my journalistic integrity in order to take highly partisan swipes at every Bostonian's favorite punching bag.

But it's a new year now, and if I had thought to make any new year's resolutions, it seems possible that one of them could have been a pledge to be more mature and open-minded. So, in the spirit of that hypothetical non-resolution, I thought I'd give the Pinstripes a chance and try to play devil's advocate. Sure, I found their winter free-agent binge disgusting as it unfolded. But now, as I examine it with fresh, fair-minded 2009 eyes, could it be possible that the Yankees' ridiculous spending was actually good for baseball? Can the unjustifiable be justified?

I'm not sure how much I actually believe this, but--maybe. It all goes back to the function that baseball--and sports overall--are supposed to serve in our lives. Some would argue that sports is about poetry, about superhuman feats that reveal some kind of unique deeper meaning. But I think sports is mostly about escapism. That's why baseball games are on at 7, and football games are on weekends--when we come home from work, or when we have a day off, we want something a little bit outside our lives to think about for a while. And, as I've said before, baseball stays the same as our country changes, which means that our teams are always there to reassure us.

And it just so happens that, in 2008, there was a lot to escape from. Mostly, it was the economy, which transitioned rapidly from our national strength into something truly frightening. It was surprisingly jarring for me to read articles about how the economic crisis might end up affecting teams' spending. Baseball teams, I felt, are institutions that are supposed to be immune from that kind of thing. We won't be able to turn on the game to escape from the economic crisis if it follows us into the TV.

And then, a few months later, it was the Yankees who stood up and expanded their payroll to reassert their sport's invulnerability. Sure, they monopolized the available talent and eroded just a little more of baseball's rapidly disappearing competitive fairness. But in its own way, it's almost admirable--who has flown in the face of our country's biggest current threat more than the New York Yankees? In outspending all 29 other teams combined by almost a 2-to-1 margin, at least they reassured us all that, for some teams, our sports could continue to exist apart from reality, as they had before the crisis began. While it may be somewhat obnoxious, the Yankees are just doing what they've always done. And that's exactly what baseball is for.

Get Ready, K.L.

A pitcher with the best nickname ever is coming to your town.

Greatest Hits

It's been a tough week. And, since I'm in need of a pick-me-up, and because my posts seem to tilt inevitably towards Boston homerism so I may as well stop resisting and embrace it, I've decided to list, in descending order, the top five sports memories of my life. I invite my colleagues, if they're interested, to do the same, since I'd be interested to hear their stories, and because it will delay the inevitable "worst five memories of my life" follow-up post that will depress me for weeks.

Without further ado:

THE TOP FIVE SPORTS MEMORIES OF D.R.W.'S LIFE

5. 2008 ALCS, GAME 5

This one can't go any higher than number 5--when you don't go on to win the championship, and when you in fact don't even wind up winning the series, it's tough to remember this game without thinking about what could have been. Still, it has a legacy--from now on, I can never give up on an important game, no matter how painful a bludgeoning it's become, because the 2008 Red Sox forced me to admit that there's always a chance. Yes, it's going to be a painful existence, thanks to this game--but it will all be worth it if I can ever even come close to replicating the moment when I collapsed on the floor after J.D. Drew's walkoff liner and had absolutely no way to process what I'd just seen. God, I love sports--and we're only on Number 5. The list is working its magic already.

4. 2008 NBA FINALS, GAME 6

So tempting to pick a different game--maybe the night that Pierce and LeBron channelled Bird and Wilkins as my friends and I watched, incredulously, in our college dorm, or the 24-point comeback that we took in at a bar off of Boylston Street. But those experiences were all about us, and what set the 2008 Celtics apart was that it was all about them. Just when I worried that I might grow desensitized after so many Boston championships, along came a team that wanted to win more than anyone else I'd ever seen. Sure, Kevin Garnett's post-victory interview is undeniably funny--but it's also one of the greatest expressions of pure emotion you'll find anywhere in sports. I'm happy when my teams win, but when the 2008 Celtics won, I was happy for them. And, you know, for myself too.

3. SUPER BOWL XXXVI

Without a doubt, the worst actual championship you'll find anywhere on this list. Sure, the Pats were huge underdogs, and that made it a hugely exciting game--but it can't compare to the raw emotionality of the Celtics win, or the sheer magnitude of any championships that may or may not be coming farther down in this list. But still, it was a great game, it was the rise of Tom Brady, and, most importantly, it was the first championship any of my teams had ever won on my watch.* To put that moment any lower than third would be criminal.

2. 2004 WORLD SERIES

I can't pick a specific game, because--let's face it--the actual games were, objectively, terribly boring. The 2004 World Series wasn't about great comebacks or heroic moments, or even individual games at all--it was about optimism. Even after the Sox-Yankees ALCS, Boston fans couldn't shake the feeling that there was always a way not to win. How awful would it be if the Red Sox completed the most incredible comeback in baseball history--and then lost? It would, in fact, have been so terrible that I honestly believed it would happen. That was the mindset in Boston--until it didn't happen, and things were never the same again. Optimism. It's a beautiful thing.

1. 2004 ALCS

Which game do you want me to pick? Should I choose the one where, facing elimination the night after losing 19-8, the Red Sox countered with the most famous stolen base in team history and a clutch RBI single off of the greatest closer that ever was, followed by a David Ortiz walkoff home run in extra innings? Or maybe the one that went 14 innings and six hours, featuring a miraculously bizarre hop that prevented Tony Clark's liner to right from winning the series for the Yankees, as well as the most exruciatingly tense inning in baseball history, when, in the 13th, Varitek ended up catching Wakefield (to which he was not accustomed), and surrendered three (!) passed balls and was just one away from losing the entire series? Followed by yet another Ortiz walk-off hit? Or maybe I should pick the one where Curt Schilling shut down Yankee Stadium while actively bleeding from the ankle, because his tendon was scraping against the bone due to surgery that the team doctor had only ever performed on a cadaver, and A-Rod was called out at first after the glove-slapping incident, causing fans to throw baseballs and debris onto the field to the point that the game was stopped and riot police were stationed along the warning track as A-Rod looked on the verge of tears for the remainder of the game?

There's no way. If I made myself pick one game for each item on this list, those would be 1, 2, and 3 in some order or another, and Game 7 would be Number 4 for good measure. It was that good. It was the greatest professional sports victory of all time, anywhere, and you'll never convince me otherwise. It transformed a town, a team, and a rivalry forever. I will never have a better sports memory for the rest of my life, and I am entirely OK with that. I have every game on DVD.

*Unless you count the 1986 Celtics title, which they won when I was two months old. I like to think I contributed.

Empire State

The Yankees may not suck.

It's true, despite the chants to the contrary. But it's not as obvious a statement as you might think. The Yankees certainly did suck, from October 27, 2000, until midafternoon yesterday. That's what happens when you have the payroll of nine teams. You either win the World Series, or you suck.

Yankee fans may disagree with that admittedly high standard, but Brian Cashman is clearly on my side. What else could inspire a man to pick the top three free agents in a relatively stacked offseason and buy them all? For $423 million?

The Yankees want to win a World Series. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. They're going after the best players in order to do it, and there's nothing wrong with that either. The problem, as I've said before, is that they do it in the most inelegant way possible. Brian Cashman and Hank Steinbrenner may have just secured their team a championship, but there wasn't an ounce of baseball analysis or business negotiating skills involved in the process. Find the three free agents who had the best years last year and offer them endless money? Indications are that the Yankees weren't even bidding for Teixeira until the Red Sox and Angels dropped out, then they stuck their heads in and offered him $180 million and a full no-trade clause. Mark Teixeira, since I now hate you, it gives me pleasure to know that you could have held out for $10 million more. Trust me, they would have given it to you.

Sure, I'm a Red Sox fan, but if you think about who the real victims are here, it's the Nationals. They wanted to revitalize (well, "vitalize") their franchise. They broke the bank to make a huge offer that would have helped level a MLB playing field that so reliably tilts towards the big-money franchises. It's too bad, Nationals fans; it turns out your league is actually designed so you don't have a shot at the World Series.

So there you have it. You'd think that, to win a World Series, you have to be highly skilled at evaluating talent, and predicting when players are about to peak so you can buy them cheaply. But that's not the case--really, anyone can do it. You too can win a World Series, for the low, low price of $423 million.

Yes, you certainly can win a championship that way. But I'm certainly going to be satisfied every time the Yankees lose to the $30 million Rays along the way. 

tuesday night sports digest

time to stop saying "the U," guys. okay, i realize that the university of miami was a great football team back in the day. hell, i loved watching ken dorsey lead comeback after comeback, and i enjoyed the complete demolition the hurricanes defense inflicted on all their opponents. but in case santana moss and co. haven't noticed, miami now sucks. i mean, 4-4 in the acc? while the 'canes still have some great individual talent, miami is no longer the university to beat.

overreaction of the decade. remember when todd bertuzzi almost killed steve moore? remember how he cried a little, and then he continued playing for top NHL teams? well, apparently, almost paralyzing a person is much less offensive than making a casual (although admittedly very offensive) comment about your ex-girlfriends and the players now dating them. i may be missing something, but did sean avery cross some special line? T.O. says worse stuff every day, and he keeps getting jobs in the big D. so why did the stars decide to eat several million dollars and cut avery? could it just be because he isn't all that good? either way, this only adds to what continues to be an embarrassing season for co-GM brett hull. (but the sharks are lookin' good, eh?)

more on the mitchell report. what report, you say? yeah, i know the mitchell report was forever ago, but tom verducci had a good SI piece on the lasting effects of bud selig's decision to crack down on drugs in baseball. check it out if you haven't read it yet.

how good is the big east? the verdict is still out. while this week's rankings certainly favor big east squads, the orange showed that those teams are far from invincible. the real question remains: can anyone beat the tar heels? well, i think someone might have to smack hansbrough in the face again before that becomes a real possibility.

Seeing Red

Changing your uniform design is like calling one of those last-second timeouts just as the opposing team is about to kick a field goal. Sure, it may have been a good call--maybe their first try would have been straight through the uprights, but they choke when they have to kick it again. However, when you think about it, it's just as likely that they miss that first kick, and your ill-advised, too-clever-by-half timeout gives them the second chance they need.

Switching up your team's logo and uniform design is kind of like that. There's always the chance that your old design really was an eyesore, and the change is actually an improvement. However, it's just as likely that you're fixing what isn't broken, overthinking and overacting when the best move is to leave well enough alone.

Now, if you're like me, you probably weren't sitting around thinking, "You know what really needs a change? The Boston Red Sox logo that's existed happily for 29 years." But that's what sets people like you and me apart from the Red Sox brass. Maybe it was the Game 7 ALCS lost that left a sour taste in their mouths, but after two recent World Series wins and God knows how many millions in revenue, they suddenly decided that this just wasn't good enough anymore.

Now, let's face it: baseball doesn't have much over other sports. While I love it to death, it's slow, objectively boring, and as much as I keep hoping it will happen, the players never start hitting each other with their bats. The one thing baseball does have in its corner is history. No American sport can touch baseball's unique place in Americana, and its steady presence through every cultural transformation. Love them or hate them, the Red Sox have pretty much always been there. And through Reagan, the Berlin Wall, O.J. Simpson, Monica Lewinsky, September 11th, and Barack Obama, they had the same logo.

The point is that baseball isn't simply historic--it's also somehow comforting in the way that it stays the same as we grow and change. If you're the Blue Jays, sure, you can feel free to try out some new uniforms. But if you're one of baseball's most stories franchises, then that's just not going to fly, especially if you decide to change to this.